The Things We Do
by Xenoglossy
Summary: Ken finds that even after all the battles are fought, he's still carrying the Kaizer's most horrible burdens.


**PRE FIC RANTINGS AND A SPRINKLE OF DISCLAIMER:** My Digimon muse is randomly working again. Wow, and I thought that it was permenantly broken. ^ ^ Maybe I'll start working on After Destiny again sooner than I thought (I never had any intention of abandoning it). Old times. Old times....  
**WARNING:** Slightly twisted. Lalalala, I am not delusional, therefore do no think I own Digimon. Lalalalalala. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Things We Do...  
Izzy Girl He moved swiftly and silently as the shadows and the night moved around him like an element of liquid darkness. _Hands washed free of blood, soul cleansed of it's sin.   
Eyes still closed I look to Heaven (and I pray)._ He knew the way and the method like the lines on his plams. After all, he had not lost all those foggy, vintage memories after Wormmon's death. There were still traces of him left inside his mind, those last lingering thoughts of domination, death and darkness. He closed his eyes and let his feet guide him through the worn path in the trees, through the skeletal ruins of a great fortress, through the shadows of his own heart. _Heart washed free with love, vision cleansed through beauty  
I'll run further and further to the ends of the sky_ "It will be quick." he muttered as he fiddled with the bonds, "I promise it will be quick." The creature wimpered helplessly as ropes were tightened around it's wrists and ankles. Ken winced painfully at every quivering yelp, but reminded himself 'this is all necessary. It's all in the plan, it was from the beginning...' _Mind washed free of impure thoughts, mouth cleansed of all balshphemies  
I'll do everything without compromise, both today and tommorow_ January 6th, 2003. Nighttime found Ken alone in the Digiworld running the well-used paths winding in between the wreckage of the Kaizer's once proud battleship. The room was wide and archaic, old looking and etched floor to ceiling in the cryptic words of the prophets, those strange humans who had come long before the DigiDestined were ever born. The Kaizer had been obsessed with such things- old, religious relics that spoke of darkness and of the end. There was a small altar in the exact, astrological center of the room, and a wide, open ceiling that allowed the stars to spill out above them like a great, glistening tapestry. A young Kurimon laid sprawled out across the altar, half-concious and mumbling terrifyed to herself. She knew what was coming, had been raised to expect it in fact, but even knowing the exact date of your death down to the hour does not ease the anxiety and pain that tugs at your heart. _Angels and Devils whisper in my ear  
Only I can decide between them_ Ken dipped down and pulled aside a thin piece of stone, carefully removing a small box from the secret compartment beneath the floor. These were the personal and most private posessions of The Kaizer. Ken shivered as he rifled through them slowly, every induvidual piece catching the moonlight in a foreboding manner. The Digiworld had a dark and gothic side that few knew of and few would ever discover unless they went searching. The Kaizer, with his unusual ability to manipulate digital space and time was especially enthralled with the religions and the cults that had sprung up in the strange shadow world over it's million years of hasty evolution. In the box were the more important of his findings- pendants, scrolls, rings, stones and even a bound book that served as a Bible of sorts. Ken's fingers hesitated and lingered on one particular object, one that seemed rather out of place. He traced his fingers along the rims of the broken goggles, his mind replaying the scene in which they had broken in slow motion and in black and white. Why the Kaizer had kept such a thing was beyond him, but his heart was clenched with momentary jealousy- the irrational thought that maybe he had loved Daisuke as well. It was a strange sort of seperation- that of mind and heart, but not of soul and Ken never would consider the Kaizer a part of himself no matter how long he remained indebted to the sleeping evil within him. Soon, he found what he was looking for and his long, pale fingers entwined around a knife. It was plain, but well sharpened- carved from stone, but glistening with a metal edge that captured the glistening star light as it rose and fell with vicious ferocity. It never killed on the first strike, but Digimon don't bleed. Ken shivered everytime he heard the new scream and wondered if perhaps the pointed lack of blood was more disturbing than not. The scarifice was not dead yet and Ken stopped- the knife suspended in a limbo of thought and will and regret. He inhaled sharply and for a moment was ready to throw the knife aside and free the young Digimon. Afterall, why should he hold all responsibility for his other half's mistakes. It had been the Kaizer who had struck a deal with the devil, yet here was Ken staining his own hands for the sake of someone he hated. He considered the consequences seriously and almost felt the blade slip from his hands as his resolve crumbled. He was never quite sure exactly what would happen if the sacrifices were to stop, but he had a natural sense that it was something terrible. His hands shook and the knife dropped with practiced ease. The Digimon howled one final time then fell silent as it's body broke apart and bled to the floor in all shades of unearthly colors. Ken blinked tears and was afraid to wipe at them. He held in his mind a vibrant mental image of himself crying blood and knew from experience that his thoughts had the tendancy to make themselve tangible and in every way opaque when he was in the Digital World. He drew his knees up to his chin and watched the moon dance above him until finally the tall walls of the chamber obscured it from view. Only then did he dare to stand and begin to make his way home. When he emerged from the portal, Daisuke was waiting from him. The boy was cross-armed and wearing an intense, all too-mature expression. He stared at Ken for a few moments as if unsure what to say before his face finally cracked and he managed a broken: "Where the hell were you?" Ken opened his mouth to answer and he really meant to tell the truth this time, but instead he found himself falling. Daisuke caught him and steadied him, but Ken was unable to support himself anymore. The weight of it all was bearing down on him and he clung to his friend ferociously, burying his face in the younger boy's shoulder. He wasn't sure if Daisuke understood it completely- exactly how important he was to Ken- and Ken wasn't even sure if he had truly understood until the moment he wavered. Daisuke hesitated for a few long, unbearable seconds before finally wrapping his arms around the dark-haired boy's shoulders. He sighed heavily of grief and worry, "Ken, you've got to stop doing things like this. Do you have any idea how long you were gone? How we were all worried..." a pause "... how much I was worried. You're gonna give me heart problems before I reach fifteen if I have to keep taking care of you like this." typical Daisuke humour and attitude, though somewhat strained. It was comforting, but not enough so because Ken knew what that hesitation was for. He knew that he smelt like blood and death and decay and that he was wearing the lines of murder in his face. Daisuke suspected, but he would never understand. Ken buried his face deeper into his friends chest and felt the young boy run his fingers in lines through his hair. _'The things we do for love, Daisuke.'_ he thought, _'The things I do for you....'_ _end_


End file.
